Truth and Beauty
by Mr. Gregor Samsa
Summary: After years of therapy Lydia Deetz was finally made to forget her disruptive "imaginary friend" and move on with life. Now the 25-year-old nihilist dares to remember what she was told to forget. She dares to call his name. Mixture of movie & cartoon.
1. Chapter 1

_First Beetlejuice story! But it has been a long time coming, let me assure you.  
>I've planned this one out rather meticulously, but things are always subject to change.<br>Also, this is my first time writing a story from the 1st person perspective. There may be chapters that put to use free indirect discourse and a couple other experimental forms of writing, but don't let that scare you away! It's all in good fun.  
><em>

_As always, I love reviews and I really use them as motivation. And, of course, I am always open to friendly, helpful critique.  
>This might be a somewhat heavy story content wise, but I'll definitely try and lighten it up with humor here and there (even if it is as dry as a bone).<em>

Happy reading!  
>~Gregor<p>

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 1 - Life Interrupted <strong>_

_ The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.  
>~Albert Einstein<br>_

I always imagined death as something sweet, something to look forward to. It is the big, unequivocal ending to our fleeting human existence. It is the only solid truth anyone could have in this life, the promise of death; it's the only certainty. But when the day finally came, the day I was to die, I found it very anticlimactic.

_xxx_

The smell of bubbling meat made my stomach turn, my forearms almost completely numb from the constant splatter of the boiling hot grease as I dropped the fries into their vat. After the long days of working as a slave to the lower-middle-class American's tendency to over eat, after the countless showers, after the various lotions and perfumes I bought because they were the proper way a woman should smell, after all of the elaborate rituals to rid myself of the stench of mediocrity, my hair still smelled like french-fries.

I often wondered if I started out sane, and the years of therapy, the metaphorical shock treatments, the hypothetical hypo-needles, the symbolic straight jackets, if they all somehow contributed to my slow spiral into insanity. Because this, this life as a corporate wage slave, was not something any sane person would wish for. Not in my understanding of sanity, at least.

I often got "the look," especially when people passed me on my smoke break. It was the "you put yourself here" look. The "you're a high school drop-out, you knew this was coming" look. Then there's also the semi-compassionate look given by middle aged white women who think that smiling at a nihilistic goth girl will warm their ass just a little more as they sits all comfy in the third pew of their Presbyterian church on Sunday, clasping their hands in prayer, telling some apathetic god that they smiled at one of his lost children. I hated those looks even more. I hate them for their delusion. At least the others held some truth to them.

I lived with two girls who were going to the local college: Elizabeth and Christine, or Liz and Chris, as they preferred to be called. They were smart and motivated, filled with life and passion, but also a certain amount of realism that allowed them to keep on trudging. Liz was the type of person who could really read people, sometimes almost becoming the person. She had a knack for emotions and would cry over anything from a smiling baby to a quarrel between two lovers she had never met. Her short, tawny brown hair always seemed to fall perfectly into place without effort, her small face and round, green eyes giving the world a sense of false innocence. She turned heads left and right, both men and women. It amused me and stirred up a quiet, protective rage in Chris. The funny thing about Liz, though, is that in all her perceptibility, she never seems to notice the spell she holds over others.

Chris, in contrast, was more on my team when it came to worldviews. She was snappy, witty, hated her mother, and suffered for her art. Naturally musical, she would spend hours at her dinky little keyboard pouring over the keys, completely hidden by her massive curtain of dark brown hair, until she was satisfied with her abilities. She held a stark bitterness behind her dark eyes that drew me to her like a psychologist to a sociopath. Liz and I planned to buy her a real piano some day. We talked about it like a married couple planning a ski trip we both knew would never really happen.

I knew a lot about my roommates: their lives, their parents, their favorites foods, their sexual encounters... and yet I felt they knew nothing about me. I had never told them about my experiences in the asylum or my childhood, mostly because I couldn't remember it. I especially had never told them about my "imaginary friend."

He still haunted me, mostly in my dreams. I would gasp awake at night, sweat trickling down my ribcage, around my neck, between my thighs, and I would attempt to breath steadily until my mind calmed and I could drift back into an uneasy sleep. For someone who never existed, he sure was a persistent bastard with that crooked grin and those hollow eyes. I would see black and white stripes everywhere, hiding in the shadows of radiators, the sun streaks across the wall through the venetian blinds. Bastard. I even found myself wearing the goddamn stripes. I couldn't escape my sick infatuation with this made-up character from my childhood, even as I entered my twenty-fifth year of life. I felt pathetic. And yet…

His name lingered in the back of my mind, hiding in the corners of my mouth, bouncing on the tip of my tongue. The doctors told me I must never say it, less the hallucinations become manifest once more. One time I worked up enough courage and said it out loud into the silence of my dark room. A candlestick went flying off of my dresser on its own accord and I spent the rest of the night crying into Chris and Liz's laps wondering if I was going insane again. Sometimes I thought insanity might be an easy way out. But they brushed my hair and cooed at me and assured me that I most certainly wasn't insane and we ended up talking about ghosts and the paranormal. They knew what I liked, what would calm me down.

I wanted to say his name so badly. Every fiber of my being was straining with anticipation of the day I finally broke down and said it. Every inch of me was alive with electricity, humming with an aura of truth, urging me to do it, to just get it over with. And then the day finally came.

_xxx_

My manager eyed me with a suspicion he reserved for people he believed to be lower than him, mostly minorities and women.

"Let me get this straight, you want me to reprimand Mark for asking you out on a date?" he grunted. He had a thick neck and a red face and constantly seemed to perspire, as though the sheer work it took to keep himself upright was as much as running up a flight of stairs.

"Sir, if your idea of a date is insinuating that a girl will be down on her knees the entire time, I seriously questions your morals," I shot back. This seemed to fluster him, the vein in his neck and forehead fluttering for a moment.

"Tell me once more exactly what he said to you," he tried again, dabbing his temple with an off-colored handkerchief. It might have been white once.

"Mark told me that he would be glad to show me a good time so long as I brought a pair of knee pads," I recapped, making sure to keep my face emotionless. "He said that, with a little hard work and some friction, he'd put some color back in my cheeks. Do you find this kind of conversation appropriate for the work place?" I pressed, attempting to keep my voice level and monotone.

"But he never specifically used sexual language. It's hard for me to find the correct path of discipline here…" my manager huffed, beady eyes looking everywhere but into mine.

"The point is, Mr. Dunlop, is that Mark attempted to humiliate me by targeting me sexually in the work place. He never said the words _cock_, _blowjob_, _jizz_, or anything of the sort, but the fact of the matter is he insinuated all those nasty little things with perfect clarity and intention." I spoke with a clipped edge to my voice and found myself relishing the way Dunlop jumped when I said the word _cock_. He seemed like the kind of guy who watched dungeon porn, jacking off alone in his room making barnyard noises.

"Alright, Miss Deetz, I'll have a word with him," he conceded.

"Don't bother, consider this my two weeks notice." And with that, I excused myself from his office.

I finished out my day in relative silence, ignoring the wary, hateful looks I received from Mark. When my shift finally ended, I clocked out and practically sprinted to my car. Unfortunately, Mark had beaten me there.

"What did you tell him?" he demanded, sounding childish and brutish at the same time.

"I told him the truth, but oh don't worry. You're safe inside your little Phalogocentric world. The truth is rarely relevant," I sneered, attempting to move around him. I was startled when he grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me up against the side of my car.

"You're a little smart ass, you know that?" he spat, lip curling in hatred. I was particularly stupid when it came to wounding men's egos, yet I couldn't stop myself.

"I suggest you let go of me now or I will take you to court on not only sexual harassment, but physical assault. Look around. There are witnesses," I said, maintaining the calm in my voice as I pointed across the parking lot. Two other female employees were watching us; one had her phone out.

"And what if I don't care? What if I…" I cut him off, holding my pepper spray inches from his face.

"Then I will mace the shit out of you," I threatened in a low voice, sounding stronger and fiercer than I actually felt. I knew I kept that thing attached to my keys for something. He backed off, hands in the air in the classic sign of defeat.

"Alright, sweetheart, you got me. But don't think this is over." And with that he walked away. I watched him go for a second before looking over at the two girls across the lot. They gave me a thumbs-up/thumbs-down gesture, making sure everything was all right. I gave them a thumbs-up without smiling, then promptly got into my car.

It was a ten-minute drive home. I started crying after two minutes.

_xxx_

The small second-story apartment was empty when I got home. I wanted Chris and Liz to be around so I wouldn't have to deal with everything that had just happened. We could just pull a couple beers out of the fridge and laugh at what a terrible day it had been. But my only company was the silence: the deafening, ringing, maddening silence. Of course I knew they both had late classes on Thursday nights. It was always like this, always the same schedule, day-in, day-out.

I took a hot shower, letting the grime and stench of deep fried food wash off of my skin. I lathered the soap in my hands, running them over my body, thinking about the last time I had had sex. It had been a while, over a year. I had gotten a little pudgy around the hip area from all the free fast food I would take home at the end of the day, but I brushed it off. I still looked gaunt even with the added weight. I looked disproportionate. Who was I trying to look good for anyways?

I didn't bother blow-drying my hair. I let it hang freely, dark, damp, and slightly wavy, as I read through a couple books on death customs from around the world. I frequented the local library from time to time; attempting to avoid the leering homeless men long enough to check out a couple of books. I dug into my half-done, plain noodles like they were the manna of life. I had just gotten to Tibetan Buddhist cremation when my cell phone beeped. It was Liz telling me she would be home late tonight because she needed to stay at the studio to finish blah blah blah. The point was I would have to be alone even longer than usual tonight.

I closed my book, setting it on the small coffee table in our living room before getting up and walking to my own personal room. I had the smallest room because I had the least amount of stuff. I liked it that way. Too many material possessions weighed me down, made me feel trapped. I collapsed on my small bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had painted the whole room black, save for the hardwood floor. I had gotten Liz to bum the paint off of some rich art kid in her class. He had painted one wall in his room and realized he didn't want the black anymore. But I did. I wanted to paint everything black. Hell, I'd paint the window black if I weren't under a contract.

As I lay there, a sense of unease began creeping into my bones and I started to think about him some more, that figment of my imagination. How did it all start? Did I completely make him up? Was he the product of strange Freudian repression?

"Beetlejuice."

I slapped my hand over my mouth. Did I really just say that out loud? It just slipped out, barely even a whisper. What was I thinking?

"_Say it again, babes."_ His voice echoed through my head. But was it really _his_ voice? Wasn't he just a figment of my imagination? So really it was my voice egging me on. Wasn't it?

"Beetlejuice," I ventured again, a little louder this time, heart rate elevating. My palms have become sweaty and cold. I sat up and scooted back up against the headboard of my bed, gaining a false sense of comfort from the act.

"_Third time's the charm…"_

This was impossible. I wasn't hearing _him_. I was just hearing my own thoughts, my own interpretations. The doctors told me this would happen. That merely saying his name would make it all real again.

But I wanted it to be real. So I screamed.

"Beetlejuice!"

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><p><em>I value your opinions!<em>

Until next time ~


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again my lovely readers! Welcome to the next installment.  
>I have gotten some positively lovely reviews from some of you. They have been most encouraging and warm my heart.<br>Hurrah! After only one chapter, the Ghost with the Most has arrived. Now remember, I do take some things from the movie, but as far as Beetlejuice himself goes, he's based off the version of him in the cartoon. I love me a leering, nymphomaniac Beej, but not for this story.  
>There is a flashback in here, but it'll be distinguished by italics.<br>Happy reading!  
>Gregor <em>**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – And the Walls Came Tumbling Down<strong>

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.  
>~Oscar Wilde<p>

_xxx_

Every light in my house went off. I stifled a scream by pressing both hands over my mouth. This had to be real. I couldn't possibly imagine _all_ of this. In the darkness at the foot of my bed, an eerie swirling cloud of smoke began to pool around the floor, lit by some unseen eerie, greenish light source. I watched with wide eyes as a figure slowly arose out of the smoke, a head, then a torso, and then legs. A man stood before me. A man I hadn't seen since I was fourteen years old. He wore a black and white striped suit with wild, white blond hair, and he had the same hollow eyes with that same dangerous look.

After he had fully materialized, neither of us spoke. In fact, more than anything he looked astonished. He stared at me with wide, unbelieving eyes and a crease between his unruly eyebrows. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Finally, he spoke.

"Lydia?" he asked hoarsely, tilting his head slightly to one side.

I swallowed thickly, moving with slow deliberate movements, like one would when approaching a wild horse or a feral cat. I slid off the bed, one foot after the other, and approached him. He smelled of dampness and dirt, that earthy smell of decaying leaves, as well as body odor and mildew. It bombarded my senses, screaming to me that all of this was very real, very true; my mind fought back just as hard with everything I had ever been told. We stood a couple feet apart now, his yellow eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. I reached out and tentatively poked his shoulder, expecting my hand to move right through him. But no, he was solid. I laid my hand flat against his chest, still shocked in disbelief.

"You're real. You're…" I stumbled with my words, grappling for something to say.

"The ghost with the most babes. You know that," he said weakly, attempting to smile.

At that moment I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as the world spun around me. I heard him call out my name again, shock and concern in his voice, and then I lost consciousness.

_xxx_

I was awoken by someone violently shaking me. I blinked blearily into the bright artificial lights of my room. Chris kneeled above me, concern plastering her face.

"Lydia! You stupid bitch, you scared me half to death!" she half scolded, half laughed in relief. I reached up to feel my head; there was no bump, no pain. He must have caught me.

"I think I fainted…" I said stupidly. "What time is it?"

"It's almost eight thirty. Should I call a doctor or something?" Chris pressed. "I mean we can't have you walking around with permanent brain damage because of a failure to act."

"I'm fine, Chris, I promise."

"Please don't die."

"I'm not going to die. Not yet."

I was finally able to coax her out of my room, assuring her that I wasn't badly injured.

"Liz should be home around ten," she informed me as she closed the door to her room across from mine. I sighed and moved backwards into my own. As I shut the door I heard a stirring in the corner. I whirled around to see Beetlejuice hovering over my dresser.

"Why didn't she see you?" I asked quietly, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. BJ shrugged, drifting down to hover cross-legged at the foot of my bed.

"I didn't want her to see me," he replied, his voice deep, a crooked smile on his face. "Or maybe she didn't want to see me. You know how the living are," he snorted, flipping into a reclining position in mid air, "Blind."

"But she could have seen you? If you let her?" I continued, eyes darting around the room.

"What happen to you Lyds?" his voice had turned soft. He drifted towards me, touching down a few feet away. I instinctively backed up, my back hitting the closed door.

"What… do you mean?" I whispered, hoping Chris wasn't hearing me talking to myself. Knowing her, her music was drowning out anything that was going on outside her room.

Beetlejuice cocked his head to the side inquisitively.

"You disappeared. Completely. Off the radar." He disappeared in a flash and then reappeared a few inches closer to make his point. "What happened? Do you remember what happened?" He sounded hurt, yet his face remained serious, masking whatever he was actually feeling. I pushed past him, moving to sit on the edge of my bed.

"No. I don't remember. Why don't I remember? I can barely remember my childhood!" I whined, looking up at him with desperate eyes. He seemed to study me for a moment.

"Exactly how old are you now?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I uh… just turned twenty-five," I admitted as though it were shameful. There was a beat before Beetlejuice yelped as his head popped off his body and spun around a couple times before he reached up and put it back on with a sheepish grin.

"Made my head spin there, babes…"

I was laughing. I couldn't stop. I fell onto my back, rolling over onto my side as I clutched at my stomach. It was absurd.

"You're… you're you! It's you! You're real!" I proclaimed, leaping off the bed and hugging him, a sudden flood of memories inundating my brain. He felt so cold, so dead, yet his arms squeezed me back enthusiastically.

"I never went anywhere, babes," he said sadly. After a pause he grabbed my by the shoulders and pushed me back.

"You were not this tall last time we hugged."

"I grew up," I supplied with a shrug.

"I grew out," he pouted, stepping back and grabbing the hefty pudge around his midsection and shaking it, sticking his lip out dramatically. I laughed airily again, barely recognizing the sound. I threw my arms around him once more, feeling tears spring to my eyes.

"I'm so sorry I forgot about you," I half wept, burying my face into the black and white fabric on his shoulder.

"Hey, c'mon Lyds, don't get the waterworks going on me…" I felt him pat my back reassuringly, a strange wobble in his voice.

We talked for a good hour. I basically caught him up on my life thus far, everything he'd missed. I told him about the three solid years of therapy, dropping out of high school, moving to my current location, meeting Liz and Chris, falling out of contact with my parents, working my shit job. He seemed enraptured by everything I said, nodding enthusiastically, booing and hissing when appropriate, laughing unashamedly at embarrassing situations. It was comforting in a strange way, like the trust between us was still there.

"I wish I could have been there for you babes," he lamented with a sad smile.

"I do too," I agreed softly. "It's all starting to come back to me now… the Netherworld, all those goofy adventures. Oh god, do you remember when your head was stolen by head hunters?" I laughed, rolling backwards onto my bed.

"Eesh, don't remind me about that one," Beetlejuice huffed, pulling his head off and cradling it in his lap protectively.

"Or that time I told you to turn into a stake to fight off that Vampire guy… oh what was his name?"

"Count Mein? He's still around, you know…"

"Yes! But you turned into a flank steak instead!" I cracked up.

"Homophones, you know I hate 'em…" Beej smirked.

"Sometimes I think you did it on purpose. Just to make me laugh," I chuckled a bit gentler.

"I do love to hear you laugh, babes."

We descended into a semi-awkward silence. I pushed my thick bangs up onto my forehead as heat flooded my face and found myself smiling goofily at the ghoul who hovered next to me. He kicked back into a reclining position once more and started floating around my room, inspecting my various sketches and photographs: a few scientific illustrations of various beetles, a couple of dead birds I had found on the side of the road (Liz had joined me in sketching those), a few black and white photographs of abandoned warehouses and run down buildings, some coffin designs, and little goofy cartoons of a girl and a ghost. He picked up a couple of my hand-made dolls, especially lingering on my Bride of Frankenstein doll with a grin of recognition. He hummed and nodded in approval at my literature collection, mostly Edgar Allan Poe, Sylvia Plath, Stephen King, and some random post-modern authors.

"I see you still maintain your spooktacular tastes," Beetlejuice pointed out, puffing out his chest with pride. I giggled.

"Oh course. I was taught by the best," I offered.

"Oh I didn't teach you squat, kid. You were born to be morbid," he grinned.

We lapsed into silence again. The emotions running through my body almost made me feel ill, like the combination of wariness, elatedness, and extreme longing could physically make me puke. I watched him float around my room again, quietly studying him. He looked just how I remembered him, but something was off. He seemed more subdued now. I always remembered him as extremely energetic, hyperactive even. Now he seemed mellowed out, or worn down. The mischievousness behind his eyes was barely there, almost as though it had been turned down to a dim smoldering glow. His face looked as though it was constantly holding something back, sadness or a hesitation lingering on the edges of his expressions. It was like he wanted to say something, something important, but was holding himself back. Instead, he looked at me with a quiet guardedness. It was painful. My mind wandered to dark places, wondering exactly what he'd been through.

"Why did I forget? Why would I?" I asked quietly, turning his attention back to me.

"You tell me, babes," he responded just as quiet, an eerie calm to his voice.

"I can't remember. Do you know how unsettling that is, that I can't remember? I am able remember a lot of the things we did together now, but those final years, when I had just turned fourteen, there's almost a void there." I knitted my eyebrows together, descending into deep thought.

"What's the last thing you remember, Lyds? Before you started talking to that Shrink?" he asked, eyes locked to mine in complete seriousness, his front arms resting on the foot of my bed, his lower body still hovering in the air.

"I-I don't know, I can't remember," I pleaded, feeling a bout of hysteria coming on.

"Yes you can. Now think!" he commanded, far more aggressive than he had been earlier. I felt him press his cold hand against my face, palm resting on my forehead.

"Let me help," he offered.

I closed my eyes as a small hum of energy began to vibrate in the front of my skull. Breathing deeply, I attempted to take myself back in time.

"Alright, it was only eleven years ago. Not too bad," I assured myself half-heartedly with a nervous giggle.

"C'mon babes, I've remembered things from hundreds of years ago. You know if I can do it, you can," he urged with a snort, unable to hide the nervousness in his voice as well.

"You…" I began, foggy images swimming into view. "You had lost your mind, literally," I laughed uneasily as the memories started to flow. "I had helped you find it… but I wasn't there to see it through to the end. Something happened. Something yanked me out of the Netherworld," I explained, making ambiguous hand gestures to aid in the storytelling. The hum of energy from Beetlejuice's hand increased slightly and I heard him sigh. Then, it all started falling into place.

_xxx _

_I landed with a thump in the middle of my room, disoriented from the strange departure from the Netherworld. I rubbed my head, looking around in confusion. My stomach was squirming as if I had just gotten off of a rollercoaster that had done a particularly good job of stirring up my insides. I began to call out Beetlejuice's name, but was interrupted by my parents entering the room._

"_Lydia dear!" my stepmother chimed sweetly as she entered my room without knocking, my father following suit. _

"_Delia! Knock!" I scolded, flustered and caught off guard._

"_Darling there are some people here to see you," she explained. _

"_What? Who are they?" _

"_Well, we're not sure, sweetheart, we were hoping you could come down and tell us," my father reasoned. _

_ The three of us marched solemnly back down the large staircase, a growing sense of dread forming in my chest. Two men dressed identically in off-grey suits and ties were standing in front of the door. _

"_May I help you?" I offered politely, stepping forward and attempting to look commanding. _

"_I certainly hope so," the men spoke together in unison, sending chills down my spine. Suddenly the world went very quiet. The ticking of the hall clock ceased as well as the sound of the birds outside. I spun around to see my parents completely frozen in time, my stepmother still smiling and my father in the middle of scratching his neck. I whirled back around to face the men, stumbling a little. _

"_What do you want?" I almost yelled. They smiled eerily in tandem._

"_Your frequent visits to the Netherworld are no longer going unnoticed Miss Deetz. Surely you realized this would happen," they continued to smile at me, speaking together. _

"_Whatever rules I broke, I'm very sorry. I was not properly informed…" _

"_Unfortunately, a decision has already been made," they cut me off. I looked back to my parents, feeling small and completely helpless. _

"_You will no longer be seeing your little friend, Lydia Deetz. I hope you said goodbye."_

"_What? NO!" I screamed, lunging towards them. They both clasped each of my shoulders with their outside arm, their two inside arms reaching up and pointing at my eyes. I squirmed futilely. _

"_This is for the best. It is for the good of all," they assure me, their pointer fingers drawing closer and closer to my eyes. I screamed and screamed as their fingers passed through my eyes and into my head as though I were the specter, not they. I felt them take something from my thoughts, but what? _

_I continued to scream until my head pounded and my sides heaved with effort. When I came to, the two men in grey suits were gone and two men in white jackets were standing above me._

"_I'm sorry it's come to this, Mr. and Mrs. Deetz, but she may become a hazard to her own health if we don't fix this now," one was saying to my parents. The other bent down, a compassionate, concerned look on his face. _

"_Come along Lydia, we have to go now,"_

"_No!" I screamed, feeling like a lost child._

"_Are you sure it will help my?" my father asked, clasping Delia by the shoulders. My eyes darted wildly to look at him. What was he saying? Wasn't he just here? Didn't he just see the two men in the grey suits? What day was it? _

"_We are going to do the best we can. This kind of psychological trauma isn't unusual in people who have undergone trauma like Lydia has. Paranoid schizophrenia isn't as dire as it sounds, and she's a light case. She created this imaginary friend at a young age, probably when she first lost her mother. The fact that she held onto him for so long is just a sign of extended trauma. I can assure you, our faculty is very apt at these types of cases. We will have her fixed up in no time," the doctor spoke calmly. I stared, mouth agape in disbelief as my parents nodded sympathetically._

"_Dad! Delia! Please! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy! Don't let them take me! They're not actually doctors!" I pleaded, half realizing that I really did sound crazy. Maybe I was crazy. Who was the imaginary friend they were talking about anyways? Did I even have an imaginary friend? _

"_It'll be okay darling. Just do what they say," my father implored, sounding thoroughly distressed. _

_ And with that, I was taken away. _

_xxx_

I shook with sobs as Beetlejuice's cold arms encircled me.

"Oh god…" I cried, "Oh god, they brainwashed me. They did something to me… I don't know what. They took my memory of you," I sniveled for a moment longer, turning to fully bury my face against Beetlejuice's chest.

"Then how…?" I started again after I had calmed down, "How did I remember your name? The doctors never said it to me, they just told me that I could never say it, which was easy because I couldn't remember it anyways! But then it just came back to me one day when I was sitting in my room. This room; I had just moved in with Chris and Liz. It was like… all my visual memories of you came flooding back. How?"

Beetlejuice looked grim and brooding. He moved away from me, getting off the bed and striding, not hovering, towards my small window.

"I gave you your memory back," he said in a low voice. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, my nerves on fire. I didn't dare speak.

"I had to search for it long and hard. I'm sorry," he said, eyes glued to the distant horizon, the dim lights of the city. I saw his throat contract as he swallowed.

"You see, it would have taken me less time, but…" He scratched thoughtlessly at the back of his head, an irritated expression coming over his face.

"They made me forget too."

_xxx _

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><p><em>Bum bum bum!<br>Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be written in 3rd person following Beetlejuice's experiences.  
>Thanks for reading, and, as always, I value your opinion!<br>_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello everyone!  
>I'm back with another installment.<br>Like I said, this one is different because it's told from 3rd person focusing on BJ's point of view.  
>Hope you enjoy!<br>~Gregor  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 –And the Flames Went Higher <strong>

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

~George Elliot

_xxx_

For some, the thought of being out of control of their situation can bring on a panic attack. In fact, that is why so many fear death: the complete loss of control. Once death has come, however, things become a lot simpler. The same could be said about losing one's mind.

Beetlejuice wandered aimlessly for a while, brainless and vapid, not a care in the world. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, a desperate little girl trying to get him to focus, lots of buzz and noise. He didn't really care though and brushed it all off. When he finally came to he was seated on the ground, two men in identical grey suits standing in front of him. He blinked stupidly up at them, trying to remember what had happened. It was as though he had blacked out and couldn't remember… several years of his afterlife.

"Hey! What gives? Where am I?" he demanded, shaking a fist dramatically.

"Go home, Beetlejuice," they said in unison, the sky seeming to darken behind them. Beetlejuice quirked an eyebrow, about to comment on their cliché little act, but a sudden chill running down his spine made him think otherwise.

He walked all the way home as opposed to floating or teleporting, his gait slow and monotonous. The Roadhouse looked desolate and foreboding at the top of his winding driveway. It took a long while to reach it. He opened the door slowly as if he might frighten away some docile creature hiding inside. Nothing. Emptiness. Silence. He walked over and flopped down onto his dirty couch, kicking his legs up. He felt strange, almost vacant. His eyes traveled lazily around the room. Something was wrong. But what? First of all, he couldn't remember what had happened earlier that day, or the day before, or the day before. It was maddening.

He went months like this, walking into rooms that he had forgotten existed, finding strange, empty picture frames in odd corners of the house. Waking up from dreams with a faceless girl and a tinkling laugh. A year passed, then another, then another, and Beetlejuice wondered if he had ever really gotten his mind back in the first place. He attempted to continue his pranks, but everything lacked the vigor he used to possess. What happened to the Ghost with the Most? He felt flat, deflated, broken, and lost, along with an array of other adjectives.

Time passed slowly. So slowly. Beetlejuice began to spend his days sitting in front of his tiny TV, watching the Netherworld's personal spokesman, Mr. Monitor flap his jaws for prolonged periods of time. He lulled himself into a sort of hibernation, unmoved by anything around him.

It was by chance one day that he found the photograph.

Beetlejuice was in a particular haze in the early morning hours of the Netherworld. As he attempted to get out of his coffin, he found it harder than usual to get his footing. With a yelp and a thud, the whole thing toppling over onto of him. He roared in anger and frustration, throwing the coffin completely across the room, the wood splintering as it hit the wall. After coming to his senses he noticed that the inner panel of the lid had become dislodged with something peeking out from behind the cracks. He crawled over to it, reaching up and yanking the entire panel out to reveal a small avalanche of strange knick-knacks: a purple silk ribbon, a pair of spider ear rings, some candles, a small doll that looked like him, and a photograph. The photo caught his attention the most. It was of him and a girl; she looked no older than twelve or thirteen, they were laughing and she leaned into him slightly. Upon closer inspection, Beetlejuice noticed that there was a slight flush to her cheeks.

She was a living girl. What was he doing with a living girl? He turned the photo over to see something scrawled on the back in a delicate script:

BJ and Lyds

Beetlejuice scratched his head, turning the photo over again to study the girl. Lyds? That was a strange name. Maybe it stood for something, or was some type of code. He loved a good puzzle as long as it wasn't too hard. He sat there and thought it over for a minute. _Coffin lids, jar lids, eyelids… _Nothing seemed to click.

All this thinking was making him hungry. He floated into his kitchen, photo still in hand. He snatched a Can O' Worms out of a mostly empty cupboard, opening it with his teeth. He snaked his long, striped green tongue into the can slurping out screaming worms as he continued to stare at the photograph. _Lyds, Lyds, Lyds, what was with this Lyds,_ he thought to himself. Off in a distant corner of his mind he thought he could hear her saying his name.

It came back, rushing through time and space. The memory hit him harder than anything in his life or afterlife. It was like an icy arrow was shot through his chest. The Can O' Worms fell to the floor, spilling its contents which quickly squirmed away. Beetlejuice felt himself shaking uncontrollably, his skin boiling with anger. He began to rise, higher and higher, expression twisted in fury, his trademark black and white suit manifesting where his bed clothes once were. He felt his power flooding back through his body, fueled by the rage coursing through him. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light, pure energy pulsing around his body as he continued to rise, up, out of the top of his house. He looked around, ablaze with power.

_They made me forget her. They made me forget my Lydia._

With a primal scream, he roared her name into the deep purple night of the Netherworld, waking every single resident with fits and starts, a nameless fear echoing through their minds.

_xxx_

He was determined to find her. He searched through every mirror; frantic with a passion he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. When he finally did find her, however, it was clear that she too had been made to forget. He pressed longingly up against the small mirror in her bedroom, wanting more than anything to bridge the gap between him and the beautiful girl before him. She was older now, probably in her late teens. Stunning. She sat on the side of her bed looking despondently at her feet. Beetlejuice took a moment to look at her surroundings only to realize she wasn't in a personal bedroom at all, but a dingy, poorly lit motel room. She had a worn backpack at her feet stuffed to the brim with items.

"Now what?" she asked herself. Beetlejuice felt his heart begin to break as she started to cry.

"No Lyds, don't cry…" he whispered, pressing his head against his side of the mirror, closing his eyes.

"Who's there?" he heard her asked suddenly, fear lacing her voice. He looked up to see her eyes darting wildly around the room. She searched for another moment before falling back onto the grimy bed and pulling herself into the fetal position, continuing her soft sobs.

Beetlejuice stepped back from the mirror, feeling helpless. His Lydia was miserable and alone and all he could do was watch. It was a special hell reserved just for him. This was his final punishment. _No_, he thought to himself, _I have to do something. I have to find where they're keeping her memory. If I got mine back, I can get hers back as well_. He allowed himself one last look back at the beautiful, broken girl in the dirty motel room before jetting off into the Netherworld once more.

He weaved through the afterlives of the mundane, traveling on the lower lay lines to avoid being noticed. He kept the picture of Lydia and himself tucked in a small pocket inside his jacket, close to where his heart once beat with life. It took him months of trying, finding a trail that seemed to head in the right direction only to hit a dead end. It was taxing and Beetlejuice was tired. The picture reminded him what he was fighting for, what he had to gain.

At last he found himself in the heart of the Overseer's labyrinth, a menacing black silhouette that could be seen from anywhere in the Netherworld. It had spires that shot out at strange angles, odd staircases to nowhere. It was called labyrinth for a reason; a soul could find themselves trapped in there forever without the proper road map. And that was the point. Beetlejuice had dark memories of this place, trials and punishments. He stalked his way through the long winding halls like a feral cat, having to take cover and dim his energy every time someone, or something, came around the corner. It was exhausting. He hit dead ends and booby traps, nearly getting himself split in half by a pendulum on more than one occasion. But something inside him kept pulling him forward, almost as though he intuitively knew the way.

After a particularly menacing run in with an upper torso that rolled after him for a good five minutes, Beetlejuice attempted to catch his breath in a darkened corner of the maze. He slumped against the wall, taking refuge in the darkness as well as the blessed moment of silence and peace. The wall felt strangely cold on his back. He turned around slowly to see the door of a massive vault. Above it the words "VAULT OF MEMORIES" were carved in an ancient Romanesque typeface. Beetlejuice nearly clicked his heels together in joy, materializing a stethoscope as he set in on the task of cracking the code.

To his surprise, it was fairly easy to figure out. The vault clunked loudly as gears shifted and bolts drew back. The heavy door swung open ominously, revealing a yawning expanse of a room. Beetlejuice swallowed thickly, turning his left hand into a lantern before stepping inside. The vault seemed endless and a creeping sense of weariness and dread worked its way under Beetlejuice's skin. Puffing up his chest, he took a tentative step forward. Nothing collapsed and no traps hurtled him to Saturn. This was looking pretty good.

Beetlejuice walked for what seemed like hours, becoming frenzied. There was nothing in the vault. It was empty. Completely. He turned on his heel to start back the way he had come and realized he wasn't quite sure which way that was exactly. Choking panic. He was surrounded by complete darkness with absolutely no idea which way was up or down or how to escape. And these annoying little bubbles were driving him crazy!

Wait a minute. Bubbles. Where did they come from? Beetlejuice held up his lantern until it was over his head. He gasped. The room was filled with delicate bubbles, lazily floating here and there. None came in contact with him, strategically moving away as they drew close. He inspected a bubble that drifted listlessly towards his shoulder. There was a small moving image inside the bubble of a young boy crying over a dead dog. A light bulb went on inside Beetlejuice's head. These were the memories. They had been surrounding him the entire time. Another bubble floated by of a young couple locked in a passionate embrace, leaning back to smile at one another before kissing. Another went by, two men arguing angrily, silently within the small bubble. These were where memories went when people longed to forget the bad things that happened to them. Or when they were taken from them. Memories never truly died.

He had to find Lydia's. But how? He pulled the small photograph out of his pocket, smoothing out a small crease that had appeared in the surface.

"Where are you Lyds?" he asked sadly, running a red thumb over her image. In the distance, Beetlejuice thought he saw a flicker of light. He looked up quickly to see a bubble in the distance pulsing with light. He quickly ran to it, other memories parting in front of him like he was oil in water. He reached the pulsing bubble, approaching it slowly. Inside of it he saw Lydia's face, then his own. The two of them were laughing, like in the photo. Images of their life together faded in an out of the small sphere, so many memories in one tiny bubble.

Beetlejuice reached out towards it tentatively, unsure of what exactly he should do. To his surprise the bubble zoomed away from him.

"Hey!" he called. "Get back here!" And he took off after it, whizzing through all of the other bubbles, eyes locked on the pulsing one that managed to stay just a few feet in front of him as they flew. He pushed a little harder, seeming to gain on the fleeing memory ahead of him. He reached his hands out, straining his energy to keep up. Finally one red finger made contact with the bubble, bursting it. He tumbled to a stop on the invisible floor of the vault.

There was a strange moment of silence, during which Beetlejuice watched the memories float off into the darkness above him. Then the rumbling started.

Beetlejuice did a full three-sixty in an attempt to figure out where the sound was coming from, but saw nothing. The bubbles had seemingly disappeared, maybe having run away from him. The rumbling did not stop. He saw what looked like a bright rectangle in the distance, moving towards him at a great speed. He braced himself for impact, expecting the worse. If anything, he could fight back. But no, it wasn't some meaningless rectangle flying towards him; it was the door. _He_ was the one flying towards it, being physically _pushed_ out of the room. He went flying through the opening, skidding down the small corridor. He flipped around to see the vault slam shut behind him, gears clunking back into place. If that were all that would happen, Beetlejuice would be thoroughly relieved. But no, that would be far too simple.

The sound of snarling and gnashing teeth echoed down the hallways, the excited yelps of animals on the prowl.

"Well shit," Beetlejuice mused to himself, before pushing himself into the air and zooming around the corner as fast as he could manage, narrowly avoiding two Hell Hounds who yelped excitedly, snapping at his heels and turning to chase after him. He tried to remember which way he had come in, which way was the exit, which way, which way? Left? Right? Right? Straight? Left? He felt like he was going in circles, hitting dead ends to have to zoom over the heads of the Hell Hounds who had increased in number since the start of the chase. They yelped excitedly, red eyes flaring, massive paws beating against the stone floor as they thundered after him.

Finally, Beetlejuice found himself at a completely dead end, as in he would enjoy a second death if he didn't think fast. The Hell Hounds stalked towards him, teeth bared, white foam dripping from their lips as they growled in hunger and self-satisfaction. Beetlejuice looked left, then right. No escape. He looked up in desperation, noticing something strange: a lovely stained glass window cast a rosy light onto the scene from hundreds of feet above him. He had to have gotten to the upper layer of the labyrinth!

With a plan in mind, he crouched down low, drawing as much of his juice that he could muster. The Hounds snapped their jaws at him but did not lunge, as though they were waiting for some unseen order. Beetlejuice felt the growing power in the center of his body, and took the chance to give a smug look to the pack of Hell Hounds in front of him.

"Sayonara suckers!" he saluted with a crooked grin before releasing all of his energy, shooting upwards at a tremendous speed, crashing right through the stained glass and up into the twilight of the Netherworld sky.

The Hell Hounds attempted to climb the wall after him, jumping, snapping, and yelping in his wake. A booming voice from down the hall commanded them to halt. The Hounds obeyed, cringing low to the ground, tucking their tails in obedience. A hulking figure of a man strode down the hall towards the spot where Beetlejuice once stood. The Hounds backed out of his way as he walked, one massive foot after the other. He grabbed the air, catching some of Beetlejuice's residual energy in his massive hands. Lifting it to his face, he inhaled deeply. His lips curled in recognition.

_xxx_

* * *

><p><em>Whooo! Fascinating.<br>Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up in a week or so.  
>Please review! I love hearing what you have to say.<br>_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello again!  
>Here's chapter 4! It's been sitting on my computer for a good three weeks now, I just hadn't gotten the chance to review it.<br>This is, by far, my longest chapter. It contained a lot of things I wanted to get out there... mostly about Lydia and BJ's early past.  
>I hope you enjoy!<br>~Gregor_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – One Mighty Sepulcher <strong>

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.  
>~Havelock Ellis<p>

_xxx_

I sat against my headboard, curled around my overstuffed pillow, legs pulled beneath me as Beetlejuice recapped his story. I was sad when it came to an end.

"What did you do then? After the memory popped?" I pressed. He scratched his head, quirking his mouth to the side.

"I just had to play the waiting game, babes. I had to wait until you were ready to call me back," he explained sadly.

"That had to have been maddening," I sighed, burying my face in the pillow in front of me.

"Hey, c'mon. It wasn't too bad," he assured, drifting towards me and rustling my hair a little. I laughed wearily and batted him away, wishing at the same time that he'd touch me again. There was so much simple comfort within his touch. It was like all the many years of wondering what was real and what was a lie were dispelled with a single moment's contact.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier… I had been convinced for most of my teenage life that I was a nut job with PTSD. I just got so scarred," I admitted, burying my face in the pillow again.

"Yeah," Beej snorted in amusement, "I got a little too excited the first time you tried. I think it scared you even more." I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Damn right it did. I had a fragile little mind. It was more than I could handle," I laughed, okay with a bit of self-deprecation. I looked up to see him giving me a strange look.

"Fragile, babes? That's not exactly a word I'd use to describe you."

Was I blushing? How bizarre. I tried to take a deep breath to calm my blood flow, but it ended up just making me yawn.

"Tired Lyds?" Beej asked with an amused tone. I nodded a few times.

"It's been a hell of a day, in more ways than one," I confessed. A strange sensation curled in my stomach, and I suddenly felt concern.

"Beej?"  
>"Yeah babes?"<p>

"You're going to stay here, right? You're not going to go wandering off, now are you?" I asked, trying to sound both curious and admonishing, so as to mask my desperate need for his presence.

"Sure! I'll be your watch dog for the night!" he exclaimed, transforming into a German Shepherd-shaped, black and white striped dog, tail wagging excitedly. I laughed, getting off my bed to pet him on the head.

"Well close your eyes little doggy, cause I'm going to put some sleep clothes on."

I watched the strange, Beetlejuice dog bury its head beneath the darkness of my bed, butt in the air and tail wagging. Walking over to my wardrobe, I vaguely wondered if he had ever spied on me through all of those mirrors, watched me undress or… become intimate. If he did, I wonder how it made him feel? Were there any stirrings of desire in his cold body? Or did he still see me as the little girl I was so many years ago? Yeesh, what were with _those_ thoughts?

"Alright, you can come out now," I said after pulling on a big t-shirt and some black boxers. BJ panted happily, wagging his tail as he stared at me with the kind of love in his eyes only a dog could show. I flipped off my overhead light, clicking on the dimmer one on my bedside table. Climbing into bed, I watched BJ start to settle into the corner of my room.

"I don't think so, Mr. Dog," I said, patting the covers of my bed in the universal _come here doggy_ gesture. He stood in what looked like disbelief for a moment, before his tongue lolled out of his mouth and he bounded over to jump onto my bed. I threw my arms around the large dog, burying my face into his fur. He smelled musty like an attic, and damp like a basement. He smelled like home. I clicked my bedside light off and we settled down to a horizontal position. BJ slept with his back to me on top of the covers, head just below my pillow. I threw an arm around him, assuming the spooning position. Was it less weird to sleep like this if he was a dog? I didn't get a chance to ponder it for long. I fell asleep within five minutes, and, to my pleasant surprise, did not have a single dream.

_xxx _

The next morning I awoke to the sound of knocking on my door.

"Lydia! You're going to be late for work!" I heard Liz call through the door.

"I'm not going!" I called back groggily, turning over and burying my face into the man next to me.

…The man next to me…

He was still here. Beetlejuice must have turned back into his human form some time during the night. I stared with wide eyes up at his face, barely breathing. The knocking clearly hadn't disturbed him. He still slumbered easily; head tipped back and mouth open, snoring quietly. His hair looked even crazier than usual, splayed in every direction, the tell tale sign of a good night's sleep. I sighed heavily, wrapping my arm around his chest, squishing my cheek against his shoulder. The fact that he was still there beside me sent waves of relief through my body. Even if this was a delusion, I wanted it to keep on lasting.

I couldn't really fall back asleep, so I took to watching Beetlejuice. It was strange how he could snore without breathing. The sound still came out of his mouth, but his chest didn't move up or down. I propped myself up on my elbow after a few moments to get a better look at his face. Yep. Still gross. I laughed to myself out of sheer fondness for the ghoul, smiling in a goofy way I was glad nobody could see. He was charming looking in his own way, definitely not a supermodel, but then again I hated supermodels. I reached up to brush a blond lock of hair out of his face, causing him to stir a little without waking.

I realized I was doing that thing all young adults do to their long time friends: considering the possibility of having sex with him. God I hated hormones. But it's fatally true, once you hit that age and sexual attraction kicks in, everyone is fair game. It's disgusting and animalistic in a way, but I didn't try to stop it. I raked my eyes over his body, taking in certain details: his rounded shoulders, pudgy stomach, his knobby knees and strangely shaped feet. No, he definitely wasn't attractive by normal standards. Still I found myself imagining what he was like in bed, how he would touch me, what kind of noises he might make in the throes of passion. Hormones were terrible. I shouldn't be thinking of my long lost friend in such a primitive fashion. It had to have been something in the air. Waves and radiations. Secret government experiments. Something. Then again, I had always had a fondness for the strange and unusual. Beetlejuice himself was… strange and unusual.

I was jostled out of my train of thought by his lapse in snoring. His eyes slowly creaked open and he raised red-fingered hands to rub at them.

"Morning Beej," I said cheerily, unable to stop smiling. I felt stupidly happy.

"Mornin' Lyds," he replied groggily, still rubbing his eyes.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I asked, feeling domestic. He looked at me with a quirked eyebrow and my heart fluttered like an idiot.

"Beetles?" he asked with a sheepish grin, exposing his crooked teeth.

"Uh, I don't think I have any of those on hand…" I laughed regretfully. "Oh! But I do think I have some freeze dried crickets. I had some frogs for a while but had to give them away. Couldn't afford the maintenance," I explained as I hopped out of bed and scampered across the room.

"You sure have a lot of energy in the mornings babes," he pointed out, his voice colored with amusement.

"Oh I've been up for a while," I explained, half regretfully.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" His voice cracked with sleep residue.

"You just looked too precious all sleepy and innocent," I chided. He let out a cackling laugh.

"That's a good one."

I threw him the jar of crickets, which he struggled to catch, but as soon as he had a good grip on it he cracked open the lid and dumped a cluster into his mouth, chomping down with a satisfying crunch.

"Oh that's good," he said through the crickets and a half-lidded gaze.

"Glad I still had them," I shrugged, still grinning.

"Hey, didn't you have work or something?" he asked, dumping crickets out into his hand to eat them one by one. I shrugged off the guilt, trying to look nonchalant and cool.

"I quit yesterday," I half lied. A two weeks notice didn't exactly mean I could stop coming, but who really needed a two weeks notice for a fast food gig? There was always someone looking for a job that could take my place.

"I was thinking we could prowl around a bit. I could show you the woes and hardships of living as an outsider in a college town. Plus they have a wicked cemetery here…"  
>"Oh, I like the sound of that. I'll see if I know anyone," he grinned, finishing off the crickets. I laughed excitedly, sitting down on the bed next to him. I became introspective momentarily.<p>

"Maybe you shouldn't wear the full on stripe getup. It'll draw a lot of attention," I offered. He looked at me as though I'd suggested he take a bath.

"Ditch the stripes? Lyds, you have got to be kidding me," he wailed, falling backwards dramatically.

"I didn't say ditch them! All I was saying is that you should tone it down. People are kind of odd here… they don't really like when people look too radical. I get enough ridicule as it is for having a wardrobe composed mostly of black," I explained with a shrug. "It's weird, I know, but I've learned that it's best not to try and stand out."  
>"But standing out is my specialty!" Beej insisted with a toothy grin. "Listen babes, you wear whatever you want today. Take it to the max. You're with me now! You ain't gotta worry about people looking at your funny," he assured with an impish glint in his eyes.<p>

"Oh? And why is that?" I played along.

"They'll be far too distracted by me," he cackled. His grin was mischievous and filled with the promise of a good day.

_xxx_

It was, in fact, the best day ever. I did exactly as Beetlejuice told me and went full out. I hadn't felt this much like myself since I was a kid. I had dawned my favorite black lace dress, wore Victorian style high-heeled boots, tied my hair up with a blood red scarf, and wore black gloves up to my elbows. We walked down the street together turning heads left and right. Just for the added effect, I brought my black lace umbrella along as well, twirling it delicately on my shoulder to keep the sun off of my skin. BJ had taken my arm in his and strolled along beside me proudly. To my surprise he did seem to clean himself up a bit, the bits of mold around his hairline seeming to have disappeared. It was a kind gesture.

First we went to the park where Beetlejuice played some nasty tricks on the college kids lounging about there. He turned the skin of a couple girls sunbathing a nasty orange, causing them to scream and run away. With a point of his finger, he neatly combed and parted the hair of a gaggle of frat boys who had probably spent hours that very morning getting their hair to stand straight up. They yelled in shock and embarrassment, heading for cover, hands covering their flattened hair. Beetlejuice cackled wickedly, a laugh I had missed so much. I smiled and laughed along with him, harder than I had in a long time.

We walked through a neighborhood where the scattered trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows on the pavement, dancing in the warm spring wind. The cemetery was three blocks ahead of us. Some kids sitting out on their porch laughed at us as we walked by, saying something I didn't really hear, or really care about. I just closed my eyes and breathed deeply as their terrified shrieks filled the air a moment later.

"What did you do?" I asked, unable to keep an admonishing tone.

"Gave them a sudden rat infestation," he grinned back at me.

"You're terrible."

"Oh stop, you're making me blush."

The front gates of the cemetery loomed before us. Something about death always made me feel more alive. Cheesy, I know, but its true. It was sublime. All of those times in the Netherworld, confronted with death after death, seeing and hearing about the terrible ways people had died… it made me feel so much more alive than before. It was as though I reconnected with my true self when I was confronted with death, like I knew who I was, why I was alive, and what I should be doing with the life I had been given. I had spent so much time as a child in graveyards, mostly after my mother passed away…

I was so angry at the world, angry with all the people in it for still being alive. I was angry with my friends, with my father for not being able to stop her from dying. But at the same time, if it weren't for her death, I would never have met Beetlejuice.

_xxx_

_It was late at night when I snuck out of my room, half jumping half falling into the bushed below my bedroom window. On tiny feet I sprinted as fast as I could into town, down our long driveway, through the silent streets filled with sleeping people. I started crying as I ran, globular tears sliding down my cheeks. I couldn't stop._

_ I reached the graveyard in less than twenty minutes, hopping the main fence. I ran through hundreds of tombstones, bodies rotting silently beneath my feet. They all had names. They all had lives once. _

_ I approached her grave, my gait slowing until I came to a halt a few feet away. There was a burning in my chest from the effort of running as well as the overwhelming pain I felt ripping through me like my own life had been taken. I looked down at the plain grey tombstone with my mother's name carved into it surrounded by wreaths of colorful flowers, evidence of the funeral that had taken place earlier in the day. They seemed out of place. I bent down, running my hand over the smooth granite, tracing the letters of my mother's name. My mother…_

_ She was gone; gone and I had no idea how to find her. I wondered if I could even see her again. I felt so lost, so completely alone. I dropped to the ground and beat the ground with my fists in a fit of childish screams and sobs. I didn't know what else to do. Rearing my head back I screamed as hard as I could at the sky and all of those passive, unfeeling stars winking at me like they had some kind of secret they would never tell. Maybe they knew the secret to life and death. But they were all just as far away from me as my mother was. Of course, that wasn't completely true; my mother's body was only six feet away from me in a pine box, made to look as though she was sleeping. But I knew she was already rotting._

_ I curled up on the ground against the freshly tilled earth, lying down next to my mother one last time. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to die, too._

_I am alone._

_I am so very alone. _

"_Hey little girl?" A man's gruff voice startled me. I jumped up, prepared to run for my life. Our eyes met. He was perched on my mother's headstone, looking at me with curiosity and maybe pity. He wore an odd black and white striped suit and black boots. _

"_What do you want?" I asked, wiping the dirt and tears from my cheeks. _

"_Well, nothing really. I just thought it was a weird place for one of you living people to sleep," he replied with a shrug. I stared at him, not really knowing what to say or do. _

"_You're sitting on my mom's tombstone," I said at last. He looked down at the headstone, and then back up at me. After a moment's contemplation, he tucked his legs up beneath him and hovered in mid air. I let out a shriek, stumbling backwards and falling._

"_What? This isn't better?" he asked, sounding annoyed.  
>"H-how are you doing that?" I stuttered, crawling towards him warily, out of sheer fascination. He grinned, flipping himself to float upside down.<em>

"_Cool huh? One of the perks of being a ghost," he explained. I gaped._

"_You're a ghost?" I was in disbelief._

"_Poltergeist technically," he corrected, "but that's hard to rhyme with stuff. I prefer Ghost with the Most!" he explained, spreading his fingers dramatically. _

_ To my surprise, I let out a small giggle. He grinned at me, encouraged. _

"_If you like the whole floating thing, check this out!" And with that, he jumped off the tombstone, pulled off his head, and began kicking it around like a hacky sack. I laughed even harder at the bizarre specter as he continued to kick his own head around making whooping noises. He faltered and accidentally kicked his head too hard, sending it careening off into the graveyard, landing several headstones away. _

"_Hey! Get over here you headless lump!" he yelled at his own body, which was bent low to the ground feeling around blindly. _

"_No! Over here! To your left! Left!" he called._

_ I laughed and laughed, finally getting up and walking over to his head. _

"_Will my hands go right through you?" I asked hesitantly. _

"_Nope!" he grinned toothily. I tentatively reached down and picked up his head, walking it over to his still searching body. With a few spins, his head was back in place. _

"_Man, don't you hate when you lose your head?" he asked me. All I could do was laugh and shrug. _

"_Never experienced it," I admitted. _

"_Hey, what's your name anyways?" he asked, kicking off the ground and hovering in the air again. _

"_Lydia. Lydia Deetz."_

"_Lydia…" he repeated, seeming to think it over for a minute. "I like it!" _

"_Thanks, my mother picked it out." I looked at her grave fondly. "Is she a ghost now?" I asked, my body flooding with hope. _

"_Huh, I dunno. Let me check." He floated over and started knocking on my mother's headstone. "Hello!" he called loudly, "Anybody in there? You have a visitor! Yoo-hoo!" _

_ I held my breath in anticipation, expecting to see the figure of my mom rise out of the ground. A few minutes passed and nothing happened. The ghost shrugged.  
>"I guess not," he said nonchalantly, flipping onto his back to float in mid air, hands behind his head.<em>

"_What? Why? Where is she then? Did she go to…"  
>"Oh please don't say heaven or hell… that's so cliché," he groaned. <em>

"_But… why isn't she a ghost then?" I pressed. He flipped back around and landed on his feet. _

"_Listen, kid… uh, Lydia," he started, scratching at the back of his neck, "Some people just don't do the whole ghost thing. Usually you find real nut jobs in the Netherworld, people who died dramatically and haven't quite learned to really let go. Your mom must have… moved on." _

"_Moved on? But what does that mean?"_

"_Don't look at me, I'm still here, obviously. All I know is that some of us have to kind of go through a waiting period before we can accept what comes after death," he explained, waving his hand as if to swat away a fly. _

"_What comes after death?" There was a pause._

"_More life, I guess," he shrugged, looking thoughtful. _

_ I sat there for a minute looking at my mother's gravestone. For some weird reason, I felt a little bit better. I had some answers and then no answers at the same time, but somehow the expansive nothingness had gotten just a little smaller. _

"_You never told me your name," I pointed out. He seemed to jump._

"_My name?" _

"_Yeah, what is it?" _

"_Uh… well…" he seemed nervous, eyes darting from side to side. I looked at him with curiousity._

"_What's the matter?"  
>"Well, you see… I'd love to tell you my name, but I can't."<em>

"_You can't?"_

"_I can't." _

_ I sighed, feeling oddly disappointed. It must have shone on my face because he zoomed over to put an arm around me._

"_Hey, I only mean that **I** can't say it… that doesn't mean you can't know it," he looked around the graveyard and then up at the sky. _

"_Look, do you know that constellation?" he asked, pointing up. I follow the line made with his red-tipped finger to see the familiar row of three stars. _

"_Yeah, that's Orion. My mom bought me a book on the stars last Christmas," I told him, smiling at the memory. _

"_Well you see that red star up in the corner? Good ole' Orion's armpit?" he said, letting out an amused snort. _

"_Yeah, that's Betelgeu-" He slapped his hand over my mouth before I could finish. He smelled weird, like decaying leaves and food that had been left in the freezer for too long. _

"_Yep, that's my name! Anytime you need me, all you have to do is say my name three times and BAM. I'll be there," he assured me, ruffling my hair a little bit. I laughed and pushed him away. _

"_Really? Any time I want?" I asked, not really believing him. He nodded enthusiastically. _

"_You betcha," he assured me with a wink. I felt my heart swell with joy. _

"_Thank you!" I exclaimed, jumping and throwing my arms around his torso. He laughed in a bemused kind of way, patting my back awkwardly. _

"_How about we get you home, Lyds. Wherever your home is…" _

_ And with that, he escorted me home. He talked the entire way, making corny jokes, transforming into various objects. I had nothing to say. I just smiled to myself, laughing at all the appropriate times. I was content to just listen, so thankful for someone to fill the silence. _

_xxx_

We sat on the highest hill in the cemetery overlooking the town. It was the hot part of the day. I had lead BJ to my favorite catacomb, one with a gorgeous Greek-inspired design on the door. We sat in a comfortable silence in the shade on the steps, my umbrella leaning against the side of the crypt and my gloves resting on my lap.

"It's troubling, Beej," I said aloud.

"What is?"

"The men in grey suits. Who are they? What was their motive?"

"I'm sure they had a motive, but the hell if I know what it was," he said gruffly, leaning his forearms on his knees.

"Should we try and find out?" I asked tentatively. He shot me a sidelong glance.

"Maybe. I may have someone I could ask…" he offered.

"Really? Who?" I pushed, placing my hands on his arm. I wanted contact again.

"She's an old friend of mine, a little hard to get in touch with now a days. I think she's mostly hanging out in the astral planes," He seemed to muse this all to himself more than explain it to me. I paused appropriately, thinking it over.

"Can we go see her?"

"Sure!" Beej grinned, sounding enthusiastic again, "But let me warn you, it'll be one hell of a trip."

_xxx_

* * *

><p><em>Who could this mystery woman possible be?<br>Stay tuned until next time, as Lydia and BJ attempt to navigate the astral plane!  
>Please review! I love them so...<br>_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello my lovely readers! I hope you're still out there and having a wonderful summer. My summer classes just started up today, but that doesn't mean I didn't have time to sit down and finish looking over this chapter real quick.  
>This one's an interesting one. It has a character that doesn't appear in the show, only the movie. Her name is never said, but it's not hard to figure out who she is.<br>Anyways, as you've probably picked up on by now, I'm really playing around with my own universe in this one. So things adhere to both the cartoon and the movie, but in very different ways. Some things are just completely made up! Don't get confused!  
>Happy Reading!<br>~Gregor_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Microcosm <strong>

_Man is a little world. For, just like the Whole, he possesses both mind and reason, both a divine and a mortal body. He is also divided up according to the universe._

_~Proclus _

_xxx _

I was having trouble relaxing.

"Come on babes, you got to just let your mind slow down," Beetlejuice coaxed. We had moved into the crypt, which, I will admit, was even a little creepy for my tastes. BJ had assured me it was for the best, so that nobody could come and mess with my body while my mind wasn't in it.

So there I lay, on the cold, dirty lid of a stone coffin. The crypt had a musty, moist smell to it and was much cooler that the temperature outside. I found myself shivering.

"I don't know, Beej, I'm not exactly in the proper state to become completely relaxed," I fussed through chattering teeth. To my surprise he took off his black and white striped coat and wrapped it around me.

"Maybe this'll help," he offered with a crooked grin, tucking the sides under my arms and waist. It was a strange act of selflessness that I wasn't used to with him. All I could do was smile.

I lay my head back and closed my eyes, taking deep, calming breaths.

"Just follow the sound of my voice, Lyds," Beetlejuice instructed. I listened. I breathed. My senses became fuzzy and it felt as though I was falling asleep.

"Good, you're almost there," he continued. I started to hear strange noises, almost like the white noise between radio stations. It was getting louder and louder. It was uncomfortable. I wanted to cry out to Beetlejuice but I couldn't find my voice.

"Open your eyes," I heard him say. So I did.

At first I thought it didn't work. I sat up and looked around the crypt, Beetlejuice was still standing beside me, a sly grin stretched across his face.

"Welcome to the astral plane, babes," he said, sounding as though he were much farther away. It was like my ears were clogged. I blinked slowly as my eyes attempted to adjust. Turning gradually I looked down to see my body still lying on the lid of the stone coffin.

"That's gnarly…" I breathed. BJ let out a hearty chuckle, still sounding a little distant.

"Come on, we gotta move kind of fast," he pressed, holding out his hand. I took it, gliding down off of the coffin. I moved as though I were underwater. It was awesome.

"This is amazing. I should do this all the time," I mused. To my surprise, Beetlejuice shook his head fiercely.

"The astral plane isn't for hippies and witches like everyone thinks. It's not fun or pretty or any of those things, see?" he pushed through the door of the crypt without opening it. I blinked my eyes several times as we moved outside once more, but this time everything was different. I studied out surroundings, feeling strange and conflicted. We were still in the cemetery, everything looked the same, but there was no landscape. The headstones sat on some dark surface, creating an illusion of hills and valleys as a light mist drifted between graves.

"This is… unsettling," I concluded.

"Tell me about it. I have no idea why she hangs out here nowadays…" Beetlejuice scoffed.

"Who are we meeting again?"

"An old friend."  
>"You already said that. What's her name?" I asked, feeling strangely jealous with no reason to be.<p>

"Babes, you above all people should know the power of a name. I can't go shouting it willy nilly, especially not in the astral plane. You're going to have to just trust me. Now come on, let's go find her."

And with that, he pulled me up into the air with him. I let out a small, embarrassing yell before I realized I was in no danger. He grinned at me, holding my hand in an innocent way that made me feel far more self-conscious than necessary. The headstones faded beneath my feet as we rose higher and higher into the seeming nothingness that stretched on and on above my head. I vaguely wondered how Beetlejuice even knew which way we were going, but I still couldn't seem to find my voice. I just kept my eyes glued to him.

I couldn't tell if we were moving or if everything was moving around us and we were staying still. It was a bizarre feeling, almost like seasickness. Vague shapes listlessly floated past us as we hovered above an unseen plane. It was eerily quiet, as if we were traveling beneath a heavy, wet blanket that muffled all sound, and there seemed to be a limited amount of light available. Everywhere I looked it was as though I were looking through a veil. Things darted in and out of my periphery making strange clicking and scuttling noises. There was a constant feeling of apprehension hanging over my head.

"How much further?" I whispered, afraid to speak too loudly.

"Not sure, probably not much," Beej replied with a casual shrug. "Feeling nervous babes?" he asked with a smirk. All I could do was nod silently.

"Don't be. You're with me!"

Despite his assurances, I still felt the desperate need to get back to my body. The vast expanse of the plane made me feel strangely constricted, helpless, small. Off in the distance, I could barely make out a shape that was much more… shapely than all the others. It was approaching us slowly, or we were approaching it, I was still unsure. As it got closer, I could make out the shape of a person bent over a desk, shoulders tensed. Finally we touched down; the solid feeling of ground was beneath my feet once more. I felt instantly better.

The figure at the desk looked up sharply. She was an older woman with short cut gray hair and a fierce look in her eye. A cigarette rested loosely between the fingers of her left hand as her right scribbled fiercely at a wordy looking document.

"Hey there!" Beej waved sheepishly to the woman. She narrowed his eyes at him.

"What do you want? How did you even find me?" she snapped, seeming to ignore me completely.

"Oh, you know how it is in the Netherworld. People talk, I listen." He fluttered his hands dramatically with a sly grin.

"Nasty habit of yours. Sticking your nose into other people's business. Well, what do you want?" she pressed, turning back to look at some of the scattered papers on her mahogany desk.

"Information. What else?"

"You know I don't work for the system anymore. Freelance cases. That's all I do now. What kind of information would I have that you want?"

"Loads of information. You _used_ to work for them. That's a big deal," Beetlejuice pressed. My eyes darted back and forth between the two. It was like watching a tennis match.

"I'm out of the business."

"This is important. Come on, do it for me? We used to be partners, remember?" BJ pressed. The woman sighed, putting down her pen.

"Listen, I know who she is and I know why you're here," the woman admitted with a sigh. "But I don't know what I can tell you that you don't already know."

"Tell me why they did it!" Beetlejuice demanded, bringing his hands down hard onto her desk. The sound seemed loud and out of place.

"I come here for peace and quiet, yet you still manage to find me," she massaged her temples before taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Listen and listen closely," she began, exhaling the smoke, some leaking out of the large gash on her neck. "The living and the dead are not supposed to interact the way you two do. It's just not the way it works. Living people are not supposed to know about the Netherworld or the afterlife or the after-afterlife or anything of the sort! You drew attention to yourself and you are somehow surprised by the consequences?" she asked impatiently.

Beetlejuice had gone silent, his mouth pressed together to form a solemn line. I could tell he was thinking pretty hard, something that doesn't happen too often.

"Look at your past," the woman continue. "She could call you out into the living world at any time! Think about how it looks from an outside perspective. They thought you were _using_ her to get out! You know the terms and conditions just as well as I do, that's what made you so _dangerous_. If you succeeded at binding yourself to a living person, you would be out for good and the Netherworld would have no say over your chaos. And believe me, you and her were well on your way to being completely bound, it would just be a matter of time."

I felt a little numb with a small ringing in my left ear. The woman's raspy voice continued to echo through my head. Was it possible that Beetlejuice had been… _using_ me to gain access to the living world? What exactly did "binding" himself to me entail? I turned to look at him, searching his face for some kind of reaction. His expression was cold, but there was a hurt behind it that told me the woman was telling the truth. I couldn't say anything.

"Everything changed," he said lowly.

"Oh everything always changes," she snapped, turning back to her work. There was a long pause where no one said anything.

"Do they know?" Beetlejuice asked in a softer tone. The woman sighed, looking up at us with sympathetic eyes.

"Yes, I'm afraid they do. But then again, that little stunt you pulled didn't exactly make your intentions a secret," she chuckled deeply, giving Beej a crooked smile.

"I'm not out to get you, you know that," she assured. Beetlejuice gave a sideways nod.

"What can we do?" he asked, sounding like a small child. It frightened me. The woman seemed to think for a minute, tapping the filter of her cigarette against her lips.

"Well, you could either finish what you started," she paused dramatically, "or end it. It's your choice really. But think of what's best for her," she suggested, motioning towards me. She looked into my eyes for the first time and I saw a strange sort of compassion there.

Before I could say or do anything, I was being yanked backwards through the astral plane: a truly terrifying experience. I crashed into my body with a gasp, bolting upright in the cold light of the crypt. I breathed heavily for a minute, a light sheen of sweat covering my forehead; Beetlejuice's coat lay crumpled in my lap. I looked to my side to see him leaning against the crypt's wall in a fit of contemplation.

"We're going to have a talk," I proposed.

"Yeah," was all he said.

xxx

* * *

><p><em>Please review! I value your opinion!<br>Until next time~_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello readers! I'm back from studying abroad and ready to jump back into writing. My finally year of college is starting back up soon, so chapters may come sporadically, but I estimate there will only be about 4 to 6 more in total. Thanks for your patience and your reviews! They mean a lot to me. Happy reading!  
><em>

_Gregor_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 –A Modest Proposal<br>**

"That of all people, it should be him; that took her aback. That the heart should settle on somebody like him; that surprised her. But she was so certain about it, so certain."  
>~ Alexander McCall Smith, Dream Angus: The Celtic God of Dreams<p>

_xxx_

We ended up back in my apartment. Beetlejuice hadn't bothered to ask me if I wanted to walk back or not, he simply used his power to transport the two of us automatically. I stood in the corner of my room as he sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at his feet with a furrowed brow.

"So…" I began, feeling awkward for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Her name was Juno," he started, "We used to work together, sorting out the incoming dead, hearing cases for the more violent deaths, assigning hauntings. Boring stuff. But that's what comes with suicide…" he explained. I felt my feet go a bit numb and the blood leave my face. Beetlejuice had never, _ever_ spoken of his death before. Sometimes it seemed as though he had always been dead. It chilled me to think he was alive once.

"I was kind of an ass hole back in the day, Lyds. Still am for the most part," he cracked a sideways smile, though the sadness lingered in his eyes.

"I started learning about the terms and conditions of the afterlife…"  
>"Terms and conditions? You have got to be kidding me…"<p>

"Dying sucks babe, the process at least. But then there are the cool perks. Like this for instance." He rose up into the air, sprouting black and white striped tentacles, elongating his face and teeth, turning himself into a monstrous nightmare beast before shrinking back rapidly into his normal form and sitting back down on the bed. I giggled, despite myself.

"You can work at it, become more powerful. After several hundred years I started dabbling in some… illegal things. Y'know, a little bit of black magic here, a little bit there. Nothing too big. But it got me in some trouble with the authorities, so I had to keep it down. But what they didn't realize is that I had found a loop hole in the system, a way to bust out of the stinking Netherworld and still have all my powers! It was genius!" He floated up into the air again having gotten all worked up.

I remained silent, trying to figure out where I played into all of this. At the moment, though, I definitely didn't want to ask.

"Is that what made you… dangerous?" I ventured instead, Juno's words still hanging in the back of my mind. He floated back down to the floor, looking deflated.

"No… Not necessarily. You see, after I got out of the social work, I started up my own… erm… business." He twiddled his thumbs.

"One of your Netherworld famous scams?"

"My best one of all time." He grinned proudly, and then his expression dropped. "Well… sort of. You see, I advertised myself as this… Bio-exorcist. My main targets were ghosts who had been assigned hauntings in houses with dick-headed residents. I promised them I could scare the living out of their house for good."

"Beej, that's terrible!" I exclaimed. He winced.

"I know, I know. It didn't last long. I almost killed a guy…" he confessed, avoiding eye contact. "Everything got way out of control. That's when they put me away, tried to reform me. I underwent this really strange kind of treatment where they tried to drain the juice out of me, make me a tame member of the Netherworld, hoping I'd move on soon and leave everyone to their peaceful tyranny."

He was slumped down on the bed, his expression miserable.

"But it didn't work?" I pressed. He shook his head.

"Naw, just made me hate them even more. But I did change a bit, see the error of my ways and all that crap. I cut violence out of the picture altogether. It didn't get me anywhere. But I was still thinking about that freedom, being able to join the living again, all the things I could do with my Netherworld power." His eyes took on a mischievous glint.

"And that's when I met you, babes, just a kid, about as lonely as I was. I didn't think of you as a way out right off the bat. That would have been sick, even for me. But as the years past, freedom still lingered in the back of my mind. And apparently, the authorities caught on to the possibility before I did…"

I was still confused for the most part. We sat in silence for a moment as I attempted to collect my thoughts.

"But how would I help? What could a human do?" I finally asked, biting the inside of my cheek. To my surprise Beej smiled to himself.

"Well, you see, when I was working for the system, I got to learn to legal stuff real good. Sometimes I think Juno was jealous of me, wishing she could see it the way I did. It was all a big puzzle. After all those damn years of reading and writing contracts I discovered a strange sort of loophole. It involved binding yourself to a human through a blood contract, a spell, or something like that. It would then pull you _out_ of the Netherworld and into the human world without going through any sort of fancy resurrection." A dreamy sort of haze passed over his eyes.

"I still remember the first moment I put two and two together. I thought my heart would start beating again then and there."

"So, without accusing you of anything directly," I tiptoed, "Hypothetically you were going to bind yourself to me?"

"That's the thing, I really had no intentions of binding myself to you. I swear. I was going to try and find someone else in the living world. It just seemed natural… Plus you were so young, it just… didn't… cross my mind… like that." He seemed to think his words over carefully, looking all around the room. The gears in my mind were still grinding ever so slowly, frustrating me to no end. There was a point here that I wasn't getting.

"Wait, wait, so you said in order to bind yourself to a living person, you needed some type of contract?" I clarified. Beetlejuice nodded slowly.

"What kind of contract could bind the living and the dead?"

There was a pause.

"Marriage."

I blinked slowly, turning it over in my head. Did he really just say marriage? _Marriage?_ Marriage was some strange religious institution! It held no real merit! How could something as fickle and easily breakable as marriage hold any merit in the Netherworld? I wanted to shout at him, refute everything!

"You've got to be kidding me," was all I said in a flat tone. He shook his head.

"Like I said, strange loophole."

_xxx_

We ended up at a bar called Village Idiot. It was a standard college hangout about a stone's throw from my apartment. I usually went there when I wasn't feel completely and hopelessly antisocial, or when I desperately needed a drink. This circumstance involved the latter.

"You wanted to marry some human broad and then ditch her? Come on, Beej…" I huffed into my beer.

"Not really! I just figured no one living would actually _want_ me hanging around. I was thinking about pulling a 'three wishes' kind of deal in exchange for marriage," he explained, cracking his knuckles.

"Wait, wait, are we talking just ceremonial marriage with rings and kisses, or is this an _al the way_ type deal?" I asked, smirking and make a lewd gesture involving in-and-out motions. To my amusement and satisfaction, Beetlejuice looked horrified.

"Damn, I keep forgetting you're not a kid anymore…" he mused.

"What, my tits don't give it away?" I pressed, feeling sadistic. It looked as though Beetlejuice's eyes might pop right out of his head as he looked anywhere but at me. If dead men could blush…

"No… that's… not it." He took a long, distracting drink of his dark lager, eyes to the ceiling.

"So you didn't answer my question."

"Yes. It is."

"Yes to which one?"

"The… latter one."

There was a pause in which I started thinking about sex with Beetlejuice again. I sighed at my own strange desperation and took a thoughtful sip of beer, studying his profile.

"So, when Juno said we were damn close to being bonded, did she mean that we were close to having sex?" I smirked. Beej almost spit out his beer.

"LYDS. Seriously! You'd be killing me if I weren't already dead!" he screeched, earning a strange look from the bartender. I laughed airily, throwing an arm around his shoulders in what I hoped to be a purely-amiable, buddy-buddy, not-too-flirty fashion.

"Relax, Beej, I'm just trying to get under your skin," I assured him. He sighed, staring into his beer stein.

"I'm tryin' real hard not to think of you in that way, babes," he confessed, and I felt my stupid little heart jump.

"You don't have to," I said without thinking. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks, so I started rambling, removing my arm from around his shoulder.

"It's just, humans think of sex all the time. It's just natural. Once the hormones start pumping, you can't really do anything about it. You're just along for the ride… whether you're dead or alive, I assume." I cut myself short, taking a long gulp of beer, reveling in the small after-buzz it gave me. I comforted myself with the idea that I was only admitting these things because the alcohol had loosened my lips a bit.

"I can't believe we're having the _sex talk,_" Beej scoffed, motioning for another beer. "I mean I knew the day would come, but I was still never prepared quite enough." At that, I laughed full out, imagining Beetlejuice preparing a "Birds and Bees" talk for little fourteen-year-old me.

"That's too much," I said through a heaving laugh, resting my head in my hands.

"Is that Lydia Deetz? _Laughing?_" I heard a voice behind me ask. I looked over my shoulder to see Mark stroll through the door. Of course. Who else would be able to ruin a good time as well as he could?

"Fabulous," I moaned into my hands. Beej smiled a mischievous smile.

"Got a problem with this guy babes? Need me to take care of it?" he practically begged.

"No, BJ, I can handle myself on this one," I assured. He looked hurt, sticking out his lower lip in a comical fashion.

"You with this guy, Deetz?" Mark asked in a skeptical tone, seeming to have not heard Beetlejuice's comment.

"What's it to you?" I asked, feeling stupid for using such a trite comeback.

"Oh, look out. We got a tough guy," Mark said, laughing and looking back at his friend for approval. His friend approved and laughed with him.

"He seems a little old for you, yeah?" he pressed. I heard Beetlejuice say '_you have no freakin' idea'_ under his breath and couldn't help but let out a loud, sputtering laugh into Mark's face before turning back around to face the bar. I was done talking to him.

"The fuck was that?" he shouted, grabbing the back of my swivel chair and yanking me around to face him. Before a new what was happening, Mark was on the ground, screaming and thrashing beneath Beetlejuice's two hands wrapped tightly around his throat. His buddy had fallen backwards against the wall, eyes wide. Beetlejuice almost looked like some kind of feral beast in a human's skin and I found myself paralyzed momentarily. He was saying something in an inhumanly low tone to Mark, whose eyes were bulging with terror.

Finally I snapped out of my trance, grabbing BJ by the shoulders and pulling him backwards.

"Enough!" I shouted. He relinquished his hold on Mark, who crawled away pathetically, bumping up against the wall. He looked as though he was in the throes of a panic attack. I knelt down beside him, spreading my hands in a calming gesture.

"Mark, it's okay. It's okay, take deep breaths," I coached, my own hands shaking.

"Can you guys take this outside?" the bartender asked, and I noticed that everyone was looking at us.

"Can I get this guy a _fucking_ glass of water?" I snapped. A glass of water was placed in my hand and I attempted to give it to Mark. He looked at me with wide eyes, confused and childlike.

"Drink this, calm down, forget about me and forget about everything that just happened to you," I said as calmly as possible. He nodded once, taking a sip of water.

I got to my feet and looked to Beetlejuice who stood behind me brooding.

"We should go," I said sternly. He followed me out without saying a word.

_xxx_

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" I half yelled.

"Lyds, I'd be damned if I let him put his dirty hands on you…" Beetlejuice grumbled. We were back in my apartment. I stood in the doorway of my living room as he glowered in mid air.

"It would have been fine! I would have been fine! Now those people saw you do… _unnatural _things! God, who knows what will happen." I paused, trying to even out my breath. "I didn't need to be saved. I'm not a pretty little princess that needs rescuing. I've been doing _just fine_ without you," I growled lowly. Beej looked hurt. _Really_ hurt.

"Lydia… I wasn't trying to save you or any noble crap like that," he spoke so gently, it only made me angrier.

"I get it, you're all independent. That's great. I'm all for it," he rambled, "But babes, I can't help wanting to protect you. You're still… I mean… You'll always be my girl..." he ended quietly.

I felt like an asshole. Why shouldn't I feel like an asshole? I just attacked him for doing what? Protecting me? And yet I didn't want to say sorry. Instead I sat down with a sigh.

"I know…" I said quietly, burying my face in my hands. I felt him sit down beside me, his movements timid and soft. I was slowly coming to the realization that we had both changed far more than either of us realized, or cared to admit. It was frightening in a way, but I told myself that it isn't anything unexpected.

We sat in silence for a long time; the only noise the sound was my steady breathing and the faint wind outside. Birds chirped in the ivy that clung to our living room window, rustling and carrying on about this or that.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, lifting my face to look at him. "I guess I'm still messed up after all these years."

"I don't exactly blame you for that… I blame the bastards who did it to you," Beej assured quietly in a low voice.

"Whoever they are." I sighed and leaned against him, nuzzling my head to rest in the crook of his neck. His skin felt cold against the top of my head.

"It makes me feel better to think everything happens for a reason… I mean, even if it is just a load of crap, at least I can sleep at night," I rambled. I felt him nod, his arm slowly circling my torso, fingers splayed on my hip. Here came the silence again. I wasn't ready for silence. It scared me. So I ended the silence.

"Beej?"

"Yeah Lyds?"

"Can I kiss you?"

I felt him tense up immediately. There was a pregnant pause in which I wished a thousand times I hadn't asked.

"I… don't think that would be a good idea…" he said shakily. I swallowed and tried a different approach.

"Would you like me to kiss you?" I asked instead. I lifted my head off his shoulder to look at him in the eyes. He looked like a panicked animal.  
>"I… uh… well, that's… um… yes? But…"<p>

I didn't give him time to refute anything or give any excuses. I leaned in and pressed our lips together. It was chaste and simple, nothing over the top. It was a childish, sweet kiss, but it lit me on fire. My heart burned at how gentle the two of us were, as if the other might break. I felt tears burn at the corners of my eyes as he caressed my face and gently pulled me towards him, wrapping his other arm around me for support. Why couldn't he be rough? Why couldn't I press harder, make him hurt me, remind me that love wasn't real when you were supposed to be broken like me? But there it was, and I felt it pulse inside of me. Love. Love for this strange and beautiful man who died so long ago and yet was here with me now, an anachronism, forever dislodged out of time and space. In that moment I knew how it would all end.

My thoughts were scattered as I saw the door of the kitchen swing open, Chris and Liz strolling through the door with bags in their hands. For a split second I saw a started expression cross both their faces before Beetlejuice turned into smoke, dropping me to land awkwardly on the couch. He moved through the living room like a whirlwind before flying into my bedroom, the door slamming behind him.

I stared at Chris and Liz who looked respectively terrified. I cleared my throat and got to my feet.

"Yeah, I can explain."

_xxx_

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><p><em>I appreciate feedback! Until, next time ~<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello my lovely readers! Sorry for the long absence. I'm taking 18 credit hours this semester in college (which is a lot) and have a lot of trouble to find time to write. But tonight I managed to sit down and squeeze out this chapter. It's short, but hey, it's something!  
>I really appreciate all of the reviews, both positive and negative. Seriously. Keep them coming. I'm loving it. Unfortunately I don't have time to reply personally to all of them, but I want you to know that I do read them and take into consideration what you have to say.<br>Without further adieu, here's the newest installment!_

_~Gregor_

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><p>I had just given my best explanation of Beetlejuice to my roommates. It involved some glossing and some strategic exclusion of certain details. I had a sneaking suspicion that they would have never believed me had the circumstances been any different. But for some reason, watching a guy turn into smoke really made a believer out of some people. The two currently sat speechless on our living room couch.<p>

"So you've seen what happens after people die?" Liz asked with wide eyes. I was actually taken aback by the question.

"Yeah, I guess I have…"

"So we all just float around in this kind of weird purgatory for the rest of eternity?" Chris asked a little angrily. I swallowed. This… wasn't where I had expected the conversation to go.

"Uh, I mean… I've only seen one part of the after life. Apparently there are other things that happen, too," I attempted to clarify. "But that's not really something I'm supposed to talk about. You see, I wasn't supposed to have seen the Netherworld at all. And that's where all my problems began."

The two seemed satisfied with the shift in conversation. Liz leaned back into the couch staring off into space while Chris leaned on her knees, looking concerned.

"So are we going to meet this guy? I think we should have the right to meet someone who's staying in our house," Chris said, eyeing me with suspicion through her thick bangs. I couldn't help but feel attacked.  
>"He's not <em>staying<em> anywhere. He's not technically alive."

"So it's a haunting?" Liz asked, worrying the edge of her skirt.

"Haunting, renting, slumber party… it's the same thing. I want to meet him without him turning into smoke again," Chris pressed.

I sighed in defeat, getting up and moving around to the back of the couch.

"All right, but I'm going to warn you, he's probably going to make a show of it," I advised. My cautions just made them look even more excited. Rolling my eyes I knocked three times on my bedroom door.

"Hey, BJ, they want to meet you."

The lights in the living room flickered out and I heard Liz gasp. _Of course_, I thought, _always the drama queen_. I smiled despite myself. A small, glowing green orb drifted out of my door and slowly made its way lazily to the center of the room, coming to a halt just above the coffee table. Chris and Liz looked on in shock and awe. The orb began to expand until the light became too bright. A gust of wind exploded out of the center of the room as I heard his signature cackle as a distant echo. After the blinding white light died down, a figure appeared floating in the center of the room. I sighed audibly as I came to realize that the figure was _not_ Beetlejuice. Instead, a hideous hell demon writhed in mid-air, its long, viscous body twisting in and around itself. An eyeless head surfaced from the top of the mass, long pointed teeth dripping with saliva as it opened its unnaturally long jaws.

Chris and Liz both screamed bloody murder.

"Hey! Cut it out! I wanted them to meet you, not be scarred by you," I chastised as the slithering monster continued to… slither.

"Fine," it grumbled, seeming to implode for a moment before the normal body of Beetlejuice appeared, casually brushing off his shoulders. Chris and Liz continued to clutch each other, wide-eyed.

"Evening ladies!" Beej piped cheerily, giving them a short bow before floating over to sit next to Chris. She immediately went rigid.

"Um, Lydia, is he supposed to smell like that?" she asked, crinkling up her nose.

"Reel it in, BJ." I groaned, not really in the mood for his usual games. I was getting anxious, knowing that we'd have to confront the whole lip-touching thing at any moment. He clucked disapprovingly at me, but floated up into the air nonetheless. Liz let out a surprised squeak at that.

"They're a little jumpy," he commented. I shrugged.

"I suppose they were just confronted with a particularly grim idea of the afterlife and then assaulted by some kind of weird snake monster," I mused.

"Touché," he chuckled.

"I have a question," Christ blurted, seeming to emerge from her previous state.

"Now that both of you have your memory back and all that jazz, what are you going to do about it?"

This gave us a start. I could tell BJ was taken off guard by the way he abruptly dropped to the ground. I suppose the lip-touching talk would come later.

"I… guess we haven't really thought about that yet," I stuttered, looking off. Beetlejuice remained silent.

"No plan of action? That doesn't sound like you," Chris joked, having sensed the seriousness of her question.

"We could help, if you'd like," Liz interjected. "I mean, I can't say I know much about the underworld or whatever, but I can definitely give my input."

"Same goes for me. We have imaginations and junk." Chris beamed.

In that moment I was overwhelmed with compassion for my friends, but quickly shook it off. Focus. Plan of action. Right. Right?

"What do you think Beej?" I asked, turning to the man beside me. He had furrowed his brow, staring intently at the far corner. He stayed silent for a moment before his face relaxed and he let out an amused snort.

"I'm open for suggestions." He grinned toothily. Liz clapped her hands together definitively.

"Right then. Brainstorm session."

"I'll make popcorn!" Chris chimed, hopping up off the couch.

"You guys are great," I sighed with a smile.

"Hey, this is way more interesting than my midterm anyways. Plus I could probably use some of the ideas for my Creative Writing class," Chris commented, laughing heartily before disappearing into the kitchen. Liz began to clear off the coffee table, taking out some paper and pencils.

I felt a pressure on my lower back, turning to see Beetlejuice had placed his hand there and was staring at me intently.

"Are you sure you want them to be involved?" he asked, the seriousness in his tone throwing me off. "I'm not sure what repercussions they may have to face." I swallowed, feeling my stomach drop.

"It's their decision, BJ. You can warn them if you'd like, but… they're about as stubborn as I am when it comes to this stuff."

"Kettlecorn or Normalcorn?" Chris asked from the kitchen.

"Kettlecorn!" Liz yelled. I smiled at Beej.

"They can handle it."

He didn't return my smile.

"I hope so."

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><p><em>NaNoWriMo is coming up, so I plan to finish this story within the next month! (But that's a tentative "plan", seeing as school always comes first.) Reviews are always appreciated! Until next time~ <em>


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